


Misogi

by antagonists



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 14:57:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5168090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antagonists/pseuds/antagonists
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You are safe here,” Akashi tells him again, dipping a hand into the clear waters. His eyes flicker like fireflies as Kuroko ties his sleeping yukata. “Even if the rest of the world falls apart.”</p><p>“Please don’t joke about that,” Kuroko says, and carefully pulls a long string of black from his mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misogi

**Author's Note:**

> blame everything on kyouka and chii

*

 

 

"Good work today, Tetsuya." 

 

From the stone basin where he's washing his hands, Kuroko cranes his head to look behind him. He sets down the wooden gourd carefully, listening to the water that trickles louder than Akashi's measured footsteps. He washes his hands and mouth often just to listen to the sound of water, but usually he's occupied with other rites and exorcisms. 

 

"Good evening, Akashi," he says politely, fingers cold as they dry in the autumn air. "I apologize for being unable to entertain you throughout the day." 

 

"No, not at all," Akashi smiles. "As a priest, you are carrying out your duties. It's enough to simply look around the place; it really is beautiful." 

 

Kuroko returns the small gesture with a smile of his own. The shrine really is a gorgeous place, deep in the woods and high up in the mountains. In the mornings, if Kuroko looks out through clearings, he can see the clouds stretching for an eternity to meet the endless skies. "And you are," he gives Akashi a slow look-over, noting the absence of blessing beads, "doing well?" 

 

For a moment, Kuroko sees the glimpse of white flames in Akashi's eyes. Before, when Kuroko had first stumbled upon the ailed spirit, those eyes had been angrily mismatched and pained. Now, they stare at him with startling red clarity, not exactly kind, but not malevolent. Phoenixes are not creatures of evil, and though they may represent harmony, they are not entirely creatures of peace. Kuroko has seen spirits of Akashi's stature act in less than savory manners as well, but Akashi has treated him only with respect. 

 

 _Dear Tetsuya,_ Akashi will sometimes say, regal even in his borrowed clothes. Never _master,_ as other bewitched spirits might address Kuroko. Kuroko doesn't pay much mind to the lack of honorifics. Akashi is an everlasting spirit, after all, and he has probably walked the earth and flown through the skies a hundred fold longer than Kuroko has been practicing the sacred arts. Humans have never had the right to subjugate beings from another world. 

 

"All thanks to you," Akashi nods. "You were quite busy today. Shall I warm the spring for you?" 

 

"I would appreciate it," Kuroko says, adjusting the wax screen of one of the lanterns he passes. The flame inside of it flickers for a second before growing still, casting a muted glow through the paper. Normally, there are other people to take care of the stone lanterns on the outskirts of the shrine, but he is the only one here for tonight. "I may be a while, though, since I have to check the other lanterns." 

 

Sometimes, Akashi will laugh mysteriously. This is another one of those times, and he simply waves one hand through the air as if scattering petals. "You've no need to tend the flames. I'm aware of them all." 

 

In the distance, the few missing spots of light flare to life, filling in the blank spaces to make a steady rhythm of light towards the shrine. Kuroko stares at the eerie glow cutting through the last of sunset before turning to look at Akashi. "I didn't mean to cause you any inconvenience." 

 

"It is but a small task," Akashi blinks. "Now, come, you should wash before you sleep." 

 

The spring that Kuroko normally bathes in is quite cool. It is freezing, even, in the chillier seasons, and in the past he had often forgone his nightly baths because of how cold it had been. He's always been one to catch colds easily, and he figures that a morning bath would wake him up straightaway with the chill, even though he won't work the aches out of his muscles until noon. 

 

With Akashi sitting nearby, though, the waters warm to a pleasant temperature. When Kuroko steps down from the stones and lets his body sink, he still finds himself marveling at how the simple proximity of a spirit can turn a spring from bone-chilling to a hot bath. It isn't a luxury he hasn't experienced much, so he often makes a point to thank Akashi whenever he can. Kuroko may have purged Akashi of harmful miasma, but for some reason he is the one feeling indebted. 

 

He's used to performing rites to exorcise evil spirits from ordinary humans, so Kuroko is well aware of the realm of the supernatural. He comes into contact with it on a daily basis, dipping his fingers into inkwells and speaking in ancient tongues. Naturally, Akashi's ailment had been the first of its kind that Kuroko had treated. The process had taken him the main portion of his sleeping hours, keeping him up until an hour before dawn. By then, Akashi had assumed a more human form, and Kuroko had nearly passed out from exhaustion. 

 

Akashi's laundered layers of kimono hang on the drying line, bright and colorful amidst the earthy tones of the shrine grounds. Kuroko is grateful that no one particularly ventures around the isolated laundry line that he uses, since having to explain how he came across such elaborate and expensive clothing would be difficult to explain.

 

“You can probably wear your kimono tomorrow if you’d like,” he says absentmindedly while trailing his hands through the water. “It’s been around two days since I put it out to dry.”

 

“Wearing these clothes is fine,” Akashi tells him, still wearing the white hakama that he’d been lent. This way, if no one looks too closely, he’ll look just like another shrine hand. To any trained eye, though, he’ll definitely look a little less human and more dangerous than the average person. “Drawing too much attention would cause some trouble for you, wouldn’t it?”

 

“Not much trouble at all, really. The only one who would probably notice is Midorima, and that’s because he’s a well-trained onmyouji.”

 

“You have many strange acquaintances,” Akashi hums. “Yesterday, you mentioned that you knew a kitsune who once tried to bewitch you, but was bewitched instead.”

 

“Oh, Kise,” Kuroko laughs. “He still visits from time to time, tries to get me to go places with him. I turn him down since I still have duties here.”

 

“Kitsune can be rather disgusting creatures,” Akashi muses, tracing circles into the dirt. “If he causes you trouble, I can eliminate him.”

 

“We onmyouji can handle most trickster spirits. Please don’t worry yourself about him too much.”

 

Finally rinsing his hair, Kuroko steps out of the warm spring and reaches for his towel and sleeping yukata. The air is cool on his skin and raises goosebumps. As he ties his obi lazily, he slips his feet into his sandals and begins walking towards his resting quarters. He plans to study some spell scrolls today before heading to sleep, and he offers Akashi some tea to drink since he’s not much of a conversationalist while reading.

 

He declines, of course. He seems to like wandering around the shrine at night, dressed like a ghost with bloodied hair. Kuroko gets the feeling that Akashi feels the need to patrol the area, but this shrine hasn’t seen surprise yokai attacks for decades. He doesn’t quite understand how Akashi’s mind words, so he sticks to attempting to breeze through his practice readings as easily as some of his peers do.

 

When Kuroko blows out the candle and curls into his futon, he smells aged ink on his fingers.

 

 

*

 

 

The following few days are filled with minor exorcisms. Kuroko alternates shifts with the others working in the shrine, occupying himself with the cleaning duties otherwise. In the mornings, they sit down to pray, then prepare the shrine for opening so that visitors can come in for their services. Because of how far the shrine is from the nearest village, most days there won’t be anyone at the gates until around lunchtime.

 

Because Kuroko is the only priest who stays at the shrine at night, he’s usually the one who tends to the shrine gardens. He catches the occasional fish in his stream traps and sometimes finds Kise waiting for him at evening time, holding onto a rabbit or pheasant that he can cook.

 

The first time Kise and Akashi meet, Kise’s eyes flash in the torchlight like golden gems.

 

“You have someone else staying here with you?” he queries, tails swishing from side to side. His periwinkle yukata is tied lazily at his hips, revealing a large portion of his chest and a small slit of his thigh whenever he shifts. “I don’t believe I’ve ever met him before.”

 

“It’s only been a few days since he came here,” Kuroko responds politely, hanging the cleaning rags out on the laundry line closest to the shrine. Behind him, Akashi scrutinizes Kise silently, gaze equally sharp and hostile.

 

After a few more seconds, Akashi relaxes his stance and leans on a nearby wooden post. It’s very likely that the two of each other are having some sort of secret conversation, but Kuroko can’t be so sure. “So you are the kitsune who tries to woo Tetsuya on a regular basis?”

 

“No, I’m a dear friend of Kuroko’s.” From the way Kise speaks and his tails twitch, he seems annoyed that Akashi calls Kuroko by his first name. It’s not something that Kuroko has thought too much about, but he thinks that having everyone call him by his given name would be quite strange. He has always addressed others by their family names since it’s considered proper for his stature and position. Kise had once asked Kuroko to address him as Ryouta, but he’d been denied those advances.

 

“If you absolutely must fight,” Kuroko says lightly. “Please don’t do it on the shrine grounds. I’ll throw purification salt at you.” He finishes putting up the last of the rags and turns to Kise. “Now, why are you here? Last I remember, you claimed that you had some rituals to attend up north.”

 

“Finished! I figured I should stop by and say hello, maybe even take you somewhere nice, but I see that you already have company.” Kise begins combing his hair with his fingers, not once taking his eyes off of Kuroko’s. He looks very cat-like this way, pupils contracted like all the other times he’s been upset. “I do hope you’re being careful.”

 

“I’m capable of fending for myself, Kise, but I’m grateful for your sentiments. If you’d like, I can invite you in for some tea.”

 

“No, no,” Kise smiles, still rooted in the same spot. “I wouldn’t want to intrude. You look like you’re busy.”

 

“Not at all,” Kuroko says as he’s dusting off his clothes, but Kise is already pulling him into a brief embrace, most certainly staring at Akashi with his mischievous eyes.

 

“I’ll come again,” Kise says as he steps back, and the soft fur of his tails brushes against Kuroko’s hands.

 

When the kitsune disappears into the dark maws of the forest, Akashi approaches Kuroko with a mild expression. “He’s quite the jealous one.”

 

The priest sighs as he turns to pick up the empty basket. Kise’s jealously really wouldn’t have been an issue if Akashi wasn’t so naturally opposing, but he supposes he’s never had the best of luck when meeting the supernatural. In a week or two, he recalls, his samurai friend will be coming along with his otherworldly lover to receive blessings. Midorima will be most unhappy; he has never quite approved at how involved Kuroko is with some parts of the spirit world.

 

“It can’t really be helped. I don’t mind since he doesn’t cause trouble around the shrine, though.” After setting the basket aside, Kuroko steps into the library to organize the scrolls and clear the dust piling around the corners. He’s always liked the smell of papyrus and fading ink, so it’s a job that he enjoys doing. After this, he decides that he’ll pick up one of the spell scrolls for some light reading before bed.

 

Akashi lights the candles for him when he returns to his quarters to read. Though the phoenix spirit returns outside to give Kuroko some privacy, he can still feel Akashi’s presence. To him, it is as though a warm fire is burning insistently behind his back, on the verge of overheating.

 

 

*

 

 

On the noon of a particularly busy day, Aomine comes to visit the shrine. Next to him is a beautiful girl, eyeing the place warily as most spirits do. If she’d managed to get past the wards without being injured, however, she shouldn’t have to worry about anything. The shrine, despite being unmanned at times, is well protected because of the special barriers they set up around it. Kuroko has never personally adjusted or helped with them, but he knows it to be a difficult and time-consuming art.

 

“Aomine,” he greets, stepping past the waiting crowd since he’s on break for now. “I’m glad you made it here safely.”

 

With a glance towards the line of people, Aomine frowns. “As busy as always, I see.”

 

“It’s just today that has been very busy. I’m on break, so I’ll be able to help you so you won’t have to wait for everyone else.”

 

“I mean, if that’s alright with you,” Aomine says. He looks uncomfortable since he’s never been one for lingering around shrines for too long. This shrine is specifically built for a mountain spirit, but not all the people who visit come for worshipping purposes. As if unsure of himself, he glances again at the towering stone torii, sheathed swords clinking at his side. “Momoi doesn’t want to be here too long, but we also don’t want to bother you from your job.”

 

“Not at all,” Kuroko smiles at Momoi, who is either too afraid to speak or is just really intent at staring at his face. “Your name is Momoi, right? If you’ll just come this way—”

 

“You’re a priest,” she says suddenly, inching her way closer. Her eyes are very bright and clear, like the piercing glint of rare gems found in the west. Her hair is very long, reminding Kuroko of willow trees and sakura in bloom, the flow of water down rocky precipices at sunset, the rustle of shige through thick incense.

 

Kuroko has to blink away the images before he gets immersed too deep in them. Composing himself, he takes another look at the girl and her pale skin. “You’re a mirror spirit,” he says quietly, and she blushes prettily. “You have quite a beautiful aura. I was almost bewitched. Knowing Aomine, I’m guessing that he actually fell for it?”

 

“No,” Aomine is quick to deny, but at Kuroko’s raised brow he looks away guiltily.

 

“Well, that’s fine too. Follow me, I’ll take you to a less busy part of the shrine.  We’ll have to do the rites outside, though, so I hope you don’t mind.” Kuroko makes a quick stop by the storage house to pull out the materials that he’ll need, sticking a haraigushi into his belt. Aomine helps him with holding some of the scrolls, his rough hands a stark contrast in comparison to Kuroko’s own.

 

“Outside is fine,” Momoi singsongs, skipping after Kuroko. In her flowery yukata, she looks very much like an ordinary girl. “I didn’t know priests could be so nice.”

 

“Have you had unpleasant experiences?”

 

“The ones I’ve met before were sort of rude. Daiki assured me that his friend Tetsu wouldn’t be that way though.”

 

Kuroko starts at the nickname. He’d nearly forgotten about it, since he’s always addressed by his family name and Akashi is the one exception. He gives Momoi a reassuring smile, however, and continues to climb the steps to the highest point in the shrine grounds. Aomine trails along silently, a dark figure with his tanned skin and black clothing. The metal of his sword hilts gleam like Inari’s legendary jewel.

 

In the empty space, Kuroko lights two sticks of incense, setting down a small sheet of paper to pour salt onto it. Instructing Momoi to sit in the center, he catches the curious glint in Aomine’s eye. He takes several blank shikigami figures and slowly blots signs into them.

 

 With the rustling wand in hand, Kuroko slowly sets down one of the scrolls and reveals its contents. The paper is rife with dynamic strokes of ink, archaic lettering occupying the borders. The spell is a familiar one to him, burned into his mind’s image after repetitive rituals of a similar nature. From within the flat black strokes, he pulls out the whispers of wind and magic, breathing in the pungent incense and smell of old ink.

 

Outside of practices, he’s only ever been able to describe the rituals as trance-like. He’ll be aware of the instant he begins intonation and drawing out spells from their paper homes, but Kuroko has never been able to control his shikigami to the extent that he has seen other priests do. The little papers dolls have a mind of their own, flitting about in the air like little birds. Normally, he can ignore anything strange that might occur outside of his ritual space, but this time he is unable to ignore the sharp feeling of being watched. Likewise, the pitch at which his paper summons flutter seems higher and uneasy.

 

Kuroko finishes the rite with no trouble, and he refuses Daiki’s silver and requests that he deposit it in the shrine donation box instead. They descend from the peak in comfortable chatter, and the tension in Daiki’s shoulders seems to have melted away along with Momoi’s worries. The mirror spirit, having been cleansed and washed with magic, glows brighter and prettier. Kuroko knows, though, that underneath that veneer, she is very strong and could likely overwhelm Aomine with her mere presence. Aomine may be a samurai, but he has little defense against the spirits without proper training.

 

After the two of them meet Midorima and converse for several minutes, Kuroko excuses himself to climb back up the steps again, two at time. He’s breathless by the time he reaches the top, and he ignores his cramping muscles in favor of marching towards Akashi’s perch in a tree.

 

“Normally you aren’t so blunt with your presence when I’m working,” Kuroko pants, wiping his brow and adjusting his hakama.

 

Akashi smiles serenely, looking very relaxed despite the fact that he is well off the ground, at a height that would kill a grown man at least three-fold. He’s so high that for a moment Kuroko thinks that he has to repeat his words. “I was merely interested in your rituals, nothing more.”

 

Kuroko opens his mouth to ask another question, but he hears urgent footsteps on stone.

 

“Tetsu!” Aomine calls, “Can we talk for a bit? Momoi said she was okay with waiting at the bottom of the steps, so.”

 

Kuroko turns back to see if Akashi is within Aomine’s line of sight, but the fire spirit’s perch is now empty. “Oh, sure. What was it that you needed to talk about?”

 

Up close, Kuroko realizes just how much has changed over the years. Aomine’s starting to look more like a distinguished samurai in comparison to his ronin times, and his eyes have the look of someone who’s well-acquainted with other people. Even the yukata and haori that he wears aren’t of entirely cheap materials, though simple in design they may be.

 

“Well first,” Aomine says, “I wanted to thank you again for what you did for Momoi. She’s had some weird encounters with some bad priests in the past. And another thing.” He leans in closer, looking Kuroko dead in the eyes with a serious expression that Kuroko is definitely not accustomed to. “Has something happened recently? You look tired. And earlier—during the ritual—it seemed like you sensed something.”

 

Despite the fact that Aomine is overall an idiot and isn’t really useful outside his combative prowess and loyalty, he still has a keen eye for things, and as such can always tell when Kuroko isn’t completely at ease. Kuroko is used to being unnoticed the majority of the time, so this observation out of the blue sends him into a sort of mental disarray.

 

“Nothing, really,” he says, and even to his own ears he sounds half-hearted. “I’ve had some late nights studying and practicing, so maybe that’s getting to me.”

 

Aomine is reluctant to go, but Kuroko is quick to remind him that Momoi is waiting. He sees them off at the shrine entrance, standing by the stone gates as he waves them off. For a minute or two, he watches them descend the steps and cross the bridge spanning the thick river. When he can no longer see the shine of Aomine’s sword or the tinkling ornaments in Momoi’s hair, he turns back to enter the shrine.

 

In his belt, his used shikigami rustle in the chilly breeze.

 

 

*

 

 

Kuroko usually doesn’t venture from the shrine very much. For one, he finds the long trek from the base of the mountain to the shrine’s high location a very taxing journey for him. There’s his weak physique, and also the fact that he doesn’t actually know too many people in the outside world. Here, in a sacred place away from prying eyes, he feels both safe and enchanted.

 

Before he had entered a school for onmyouji, he had lived in a most mundane village. Talk about spirits and kami might as well have been forbidden, and the village elders would always turn away and monks or priests in fear that they would be haunted by some unwanted being. He remembers, in his orphanage, that the children who would tell ghost stories at night would go missing within the next few days, leaving behind only an empty space that would soon be taken by someone else.

 

He still goes down to run errands and the like, especially if everyone else is busy, but it’s not a habit of his. At most, once or twice a week. Kuroko considers this for a bit longer as he’s doing morning preparations, walking past other priests and greeting them with his usual bows. As he’s changing out of his nightwear and into his ritual clothes, he feels eyes on his back. It goes without saying that Akashi is watching him again, but this is something that he’s grown accustomed to over the weeks.

 

Akashi tends to keep away from the central part of the shrine while it’s still open to the public for services. He’s taken to dressing in his ornate kimono now since winter is drawing closer. His footsteps seem to almost shimmer with ember, and the silks around him look like rearing flames whenever he turns. Amidst all the autumn leaves scattered on the ground, he really looks like a being from another world; Kuroko feels extremely blessed to be in Akashi’s presence, but there’s still something dark that itches at his most personal thoughts.

 

“How are you doing this morning, Tetsuya?” Akashi asks pleasantly, the clogs of his geta barely making noise over the echo of water. “The weather is getting colder, so I hope you’re dressing accordingly.”

 

“Of course,” Kuroko observes the way that Akashi’s eyes flicker. He’s always found them sort of mystifying, glittering like rubies in one moment and then glowing like sunset in another. Pale and silent, Akashi is almost like a ghost when he traverses the shrine grounds at night. Kuroko sometimes sees him idling beneath a pagoda, staring off into the skies on both cloud and clear nights—always, always awake, as though if he will burn if he ever falls asleep.

 

He finishes drying his hands before setting down the gourd. Over Akashi’s shoulder, he spots Midorima walking their way.

 

Out of everyone in the shrine, the only one aware of Akashi’s presence besides Kuroko himself is Midorima. Naturally, the onmyouji had thought Kuroko’s behavior rather unprofessional and uncouth, but he too is amazed in the presence of a phoenix. Neither of them have had any opportunity to meet high-ranked spirits before, since they’re still young in priesthood, and are thus given charge of weaker yokai and simpler duties.

 

“Akashi,” he bows, then turns to address Kuroko. “Did you plan on making your trip down to the village today?”

 

“Well, I was considering it,” Kuroko says doubtfully. “But I honestly don’t have much experience with things outside the shrine besides duties, so I was thinking I would just stay here.”

 

“I’m sure there are many things that you would want to see, Tetsuya,” Akashi quips lightly. “I’m familiar with the village, so I could guide you around.”

 

Midorima turns to look at Kuroko. They don’t exchange any words for a few seconds, but Kuroko can understand well enough that this is Midorima’s way of saying that he should leave the shrine for today. Judging from the slightly malicious curve to Akashi’s smile, Kuroko also feels like he doesn’t have a choice either way. He swallows his sigh and consents. He feels a burning prickle along his spine, a sensation that could quickly turn into something unbearable.

 

“If you’re worried that you may be missing out on work,” Midorima tells him, “you needn’t concern yourself with that. Today has been reserved for special services so we won’t be short on staff.”

 

Though he’s still uneasy, Kuroko agrees and begins the long trek down the mountain. The steps are damp since it had rained earlier in the morning, but he’s traversed them so often that he knows which stones are the sturdiest, the least slippery. Next to him, Akashi walks with a silent grace. The only sounds he makes are from his shoes, and even then the wooden clicks could almost be mistaken for the drop of acorns.

 

Once Kuroko takes the last step off the stone stairs, he feels the change in the air immediately. Up at the peak, the shrine and surrounding areas are sacred grounds, warded so that evil spirits cannot reside for long at all. But down here, with the earthen grounds of humanity, the air cloys thickly with malicious intent.

 

“This village is normally quite peaceful,” Akashi comments idly as they continue down the main street. “As of late, however, it has been influenced by its visitors from other lands.”

 

“From the capital, you mean,” Kuroko says. “And those who are possessed by spirits.”

 

Akashi hums lightly, then turns to press fingers against Kuroko’s lips. “Not so loudly, Tetsuya. They do have ears.”

 

More quietly, Kuroko murmurs, “I have heard rumors of the people in court being possessed. Visitors from the capital may be spreading spirits to further control over the lands.”

 

“Not rumors,” Akashi smiles thinly, and purchases two sticks of takoyaki at a stand.

 

When they return to the shrine, it is nearing dusk and Kuroko smells smoke and perfumes on his clothes over the incense.

 

*

 

“You said that they aren’t rumors,” Kuroko says a few weeks later, stirring the laundry soaking in the tub of water. “Is that what ailed you, then?”

 

Silent for a moment, Akashi is behind Kuroko in the next, breathing warm secrets over Kuroko’s ear.

 

“The spirit world cannot be stopped,” he says, fingers drawing patterns into the water and onto pale skin. “Here, you are safe. You need not worry.”

 

Kuroko frowns, but he does not mind the trace of heat on his arms. There is little that he can do as things are; onmyouji with more practiced skills must be doing what they can, but he also gets the feeling that their efforts will be trite against a force that can disarm phoenixes.

 

“I’ll be safe,” he echoes. Akashi laughs, and the flames in the distance sway slowly from side to side.

 

 

*

 

 

It is mid-winter when another spirit falls into the shrine grounds, infested with roiling miasma as it chants and chants.

 

 _Master_ , it calls Kuroko, _master, master._

A spirit that he has saved before, then. Kuroko takes one step closer and then stops when he recognizes the golden eyes and writhing tails. Kise has always been painfully bright, like the sunshine after a night of rest. Like this, he is a dark mess that cries and cries for Kuroko, for his heart, for his soul. Kuroko takes the time to stare a bit more at Kise’s greedy mouth, snapping open and shut as his clawed hands reach for the priest.

 

The infection has gotten so far—he can only think of taking Kuroko’s name.

 

Kuroko draws a circle around Kise’s convulsing body with a bag of salt, reaching into his pocket to withdraw several shikigami into his palm. They flutter quietly in the breeze, casting small shadows onto the ground where he does not. He recites familiar incantations, continues over the sound of Kise’s screams. The black coiling around his throat is strong and resembles a noose, a hand, a spell.

 

“Kise,” Kuroko calls, then thinks better of it. “Ryouta, return.”

 

With the binding magic in place, Kuroko makes quick work of pulling the miasma out. It is a slow process right up until the very end, where everything spills out all at once and nearly touches the edge of the purifying circle. Kuroko eyes the shadowy mass for a moment before brushing aside some of the salt. He allows the black to cling to his hand, crawl up his arm. Once it reaches his elbow, however, he peels it off and brings it to his mouth before anyone else can see.

 

“Kise,” he says a bit louder. His throat is a bit hoarse, still burns something fierce, “if you must stay the night, please go to the backs of the shrine.”

 

The kitsune seems to have little recollection of anything past his last visit. Kuroko tells him that he may have been ailed soon after that night, which would have explained his absence from the shrine until now.

 

“Did you expel it?” Kise asks him curiously, sniffing at him past the blankets Kuroko dumps on his head. “You’re tired.”

 

“Normal people should be,” Kuroko scolds, and pushes Kise’s head onto the pillow. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have your mess to clean up. I expect you to be out before dawn.”

 

That isn’t the only thing he does, really. Kuroko checks the wards first and then ventures a bit off the shrine grounds, careful to listen for the sound of running water. His throat still hurts, but it isn’t a pain he’s unused to, so he manages to keep the miasma from reaching up his throat and out his mouth.

 

When he reaches the bridge spanning the waterfall and its river, he is quick in removing his sandals. He steps down from the old wood slowly and into the cold water. The pebbles are smooth against his feet, the sand like silk between his toes. The ache in his chest lessens the further he crosses, and by the time he is on the other side, it is completely gone. He spits into his palm and watches the black fade away like ink in rain.

 

He returns to fetch his sandals and finds Akashi waiting for him, smiling gently as he always does. Akashi takes his dirtied hand and bends down to push it into the bone-chilling waters, watching for his reaction.

 

“Are you unaffected?” Kuroko blinks when Akashi takes off one layer of his kimono to drape over his shoulders. “If it’s the same type as before, you may need to be purified again.”

 

Akashi kisses his feet before slipping them into the straw sandals. “I am in fine health, Tetsuya. It is good that you are safe. I worried that perhaps you would cross completely over to the other side.”

 

“Just to exchange evil spirits,” Kuroko says. “It’s always been this way.”

 

“And so it shall remain.”

 

Kuroko doesn’t sleep well that night, but it’s comforting to know that the water is still the same as ever.

 

By morning, Kise is gone and the clear skies from the previous day have been draped over with thick storm clouds. It rains for the entirety of three days, and Kuroko walks around barefoot when he isn’t around the higher priests. Midorima eyes him exasperatedly but says nothing, and he is free to climb the stone steps that have grown empty with the fall of heavy, icy rain.

 

Even when the rain gives way to snow, Kuroko sits in his warm bath and watches the shadows.

 

*

 

 

“You are safe here,” Akashi tells him again, dipping a hand into the clear waters. His eyes flicker like fireflies as Kuroko ties his sleeping yukata. “Even if the rest of the world falls apart.”

 

“Please don’t joke about that,” Kuroko says, and carefully pulls a long string of black from his mouth.

 

 

*


End file.
